


Doing Laps

by mhunter10



Series: Something, something mpreg [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Mpreg, mhunter10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 22:23:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mhunter10/pseuds/mhunter10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey is being kept up, but it turns out to be worth it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doing Laps

Ian felt the bed sink down as Mickey got back in it. He was grumbling and cursing to himself, as he tried to maneuver his body on the mattress without disturbing it too much.

Ian turned over so he was facing him and yawned. “Bathroom again?”

Mickey started, not aware the redhead was awake. He’d been leaning against the headboard with his eyes closed, rubbing his belly. He sighed haughtily, “Yeah, but I’ve been up walking around for a while.”

“Why, something wrong? You okay?” Ian sat up a little, and looked over Mickey with concern.

Mickey waved him off. “I’m fine, just haven’t been able to stay asleep with all  _ this _ going on in my fucking stomach,” he said grumpily.

Ian laughed and scooted closer, pulling the sheets with him. “It was probably all that popcorn, candy and soda you had at the movies. I’d be up acting weird too with all that sugar.”

“Whatever. I was forced to eat that stuff,” he groaned and lifted his shirt, pushing on his stomach, “…and this isn’t just acting weird.”

Ian smiled at Mickey sympathetically, pressing his lips to his arm. “Well, you seemed to enjoy it going down.”

“You know what else I’d enjoy going down right now?”

Ian grinned sexily, rubbing Mickey’s leg under the sheets. “Me?”

Mickey savored Ian’s touch for a second, but then moved his leg away when he was given a sharp reminder. “No, this kid’s energy!” Mickey pouted, throwing his hands up.

Ian chuckled, only a little miffed at his attempt for sex being thwarted.

Mickey placed both his hands on the sides of his medium-sized bump and directed his voice towards it. “Daddy’s tired!”

“Daddy’s cranky,” Ian giggled, then wiped the smirk off his face when Mickey glared at him.

Mickey took his hand and placed it near his bellybutton, “Here, feel and tell me if you could sleep through that…”

Ian loved moments when Mickey let him touch his stomach because they were rare. Most of the time Mickey was content to throw a big sweatshirt on and almost forget about the little life growing inside of him, except when it was making him eat or puke. He would tell him to stop every time he tried to talk to his middle for too long. But sometimes Ian would catch Mickey absently holding the bump or caressing it. He’ll never forget seeing Mickey smile when he thought he was alone and felt movement after the first couple times it started happening. He’d let Ian wrap his arms around him and hold him from behind for almost half an hour after he’d caught him watching.

Now he had his hand firmly pressed to the roundness that was holding his future, with Mickey’s hand on top of his, and he was finding it hard to keep the awe out of his voice. “That sure is a lot of moving going on in there…” he said with so much pride, it scared him a bit.

Mickey scoffed, taking his hands away and rubbing them over his face and through his hair. He peaked at Ian, knowing he was making that face he’d been making since day one. It was filled with so much amazement and fucking happiness. It used to make him feel weird when he would catch Ian looking at him like he was the most wonderful thing in the world. Would have thought the best weed ever was drying in him. Who ever came up with the phrase ‘bun in the oven’ anyway? But he’s gotten used to the staring now, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it. Ian looked at him like that before. Now, it was just intensified. And that look was on his face now, as he gingerly felt around his stomach like he would somehow hurt it if he pressed too hard.

“Driving me crazy, man. I just want to go to sleep.”

Ian didn’t even look away, captivated by the barely-there signs of life visible on the surface of Mickey’s belly. He didn’t even want to think about how crazy he must look with the smile on his face. “It’s like he’s doing laps…” still unable to keep the pure love out of his voice.

Mickey perked up and looked at Ian, quirking an eyebrow. “He?”

Ian actually flushed, slightly embarrassed that had slipped out. He didn’t know where that had come from. He ducked his head and shrugged, “Just…hoping out loud, I guess.” He looked up at Mickey through his eyelashes, his mouth twitching at the corner.

Mickey looked down at his belly and thought for a moment. The movement inside seemed to have slowed, almost like it was listening. He placed his hand over Ian’s again. “Me too.”

Ian’s eyes went wide for a second, as they met each others. He grinned widely, “Really?”

Mickey rolled his eyes and nodded. “Yeah. But whatever they are, they need some weed. Asap.”

Ian laughed, taking his hand away, “Mick, you can’t smoke weed to make your baby fall asleep. It’ll come out weird.”

“What, like a crack baby except it’s pot?” Mickey joked, as Ian rolled his eyes. He pulled his shirt down and scooted down into the sheets; Ian helping him by adjusting the many pillows he used to support his back. He sighed when he was as comfortable as he was going to get. “I don’t know how else to get this kid to stop doing the butterfly stroke and go the fuck to sleep. I mean, you can’t stay up and talk all night.”

Ian leaned his head up from where it rested on Mickey’s shoulder. “What do you mean?”

Mickey didn’t answer for a minute, knowing what he said next would probably make Ian explode into a million pieces. He wasn’t sure he wanted or needed someone else jumping around in the middle of the night. But he was waiting for him to explain, so he would just have to deal with it. “Uh, well he…seems to calm down when he…hears you.” Mickey practically closed his eyes in anticipation, but Ian seemed to be stunned into silence.

Ian laid his head back down and brought his hand to Mickey’s bump again, rubbing it slowly and feeling the light pushing against it. “You mean like he likes my voice?”

But Mickey could tell he didn’t have to answer because he felt it too; the feeling of something swimming inside him ceasing almost instantly in response to the deep vibrations unique to the man that shared the same genes.

“Wow.” It was the only thing that he could get out of his mouth. Of course he would suddenly get tongue-tied the minute his kid was remotely counting on him. “This is too much pressure,” he laughed incredulously.

Mickey chuckled and kissed Ian’s forehead, putting his hand back over his on his stomach. “You don’t have to recite the fucking King’s speech.”

“How about some Churchill? Dr. King? I know some Shakespeare, how about that?” Ian teased, trying to sound serious when Mickey was cracking up and groaning, shaking the bed with his laughter.

“No, no, please, God no! Fuck Shakespeare, and stop making me laugh. You’re supposed to be putting him to sleep, not getting us both going.”

“Alright, alright. What do you want me to do, read him Goodnight Moon?”

“Goodnight, what?”

“You know, where the kid says goodnight to everything in his room and stuff.”

“That sounds stupid,”

“That book was my shit, until Liam colored all in it and ripped the pages.”

Mickey sighed, “Forget speeches and fucking books, man. He just likes us talking.”

“Oh, so now it’s ‘us’? What happened to he likes _my_ voice?” Ian feigned offense.

“He does, so just be normal.”

“Normal?”

Mickey nodded. “That shit you were always trying to do before he even had ear holes.”

Ian looked at Mickey to see if he wasn’t going to get mad, but his face seemed to say he was on board. Unless that was just tiredness. He moved down until he was able to lay his head on his chest just above where the bump started. He lifted Mickey’s shirt and pressed several kisses around the center.

“Hi, baby. Daddy says you like hearing me, so I’m going to talk for a little bit. Okay? Is that what you want?” He felt Mickey start to run his hand through his hair, and knew he was probably trying to pretend he didn’t have a huge smile on his face.

“I’m really proud you know how to swim. It means you won’t get a chance to pee on a base in little league—”

“So he’ll just pee in the pool instead…” Mickey snorted.

“Don’t interrupt,” he semi-chided. “Anyway, you’re doing a good job and all, but you’re keeping daddy up—”

“That’s a fucking understatement. Is this you disciplining him?”

Ian turned his head to look at Mickey. “Are you going to let me talk to this kid, or not?”

Mickey huffed exasperatedly. “Whatever.”

Ian turned his head back and started to slowly caress Mickey’s belly. He spoke softly now. “Baby? I love you, but you’re making daddy tired and I love him, too. So, can you please go to sleep? For me?” He stopped his hand and pressed his lips to where he last felt movement. He leaned up and looked at Mickey, who had his eyes closed. “Was that okay?” Mickey opened his eyes and nodded. “Did it work?”

Mickey touched his stomach in a few places and only felt little occasional flutters, but otherwise things were still. “Mhm.”

Ian smiled a little and kissed Mickey deeply, cupping his face. Mickey sighed into it and held him there by the back of his neck.


End file.
